


A guide to camping and other risky activities

by WHUMPBBY



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Fluff, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other, Some angst, bromanship, but comfort right after, total bromance, we don't speak of canon ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-15 21:44:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9258464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WHUMPBBY/pseuds/WHUMPBBY
Summary: A set of one-shots about the chocobros being bros. Stupidly attractive, criminally cute and madly in manly love with their brodudes. Pairings will appear, but don't expect too much consistency;]Chapter 1 - Chocobos were just the cutest, Ignis always thought. Then Gladio proved him wrong.Chapter 2 - Ignis gets hurt, Prompto gets to babysit, they bond





	1. There's cute and there's that

There was something to be said about the nearly magnetic force that the chocobos exuded on those who looked at them. If Ignis didn't know better, he would suspect that it was a sort of a status effect or a spell designed to work in favour of the birds. A charm that made people looking at them find the beasts uniformly charming.

Even he, a man of refined taste and controlled emotions, couldn't stop his heart from beating just a bit faster when in a presence of a chocobo chick. Or his hands from twitching towards the fluffy crest of an adult one, itching to be buried in the soft feathers. It was something as natural as breathing and Ignis learned at a very young age not to fight the instinct. People and chocobos were designed to be friends and that was it.

But no two creatures on this world were as compatible as chocobos and a subspecies of humans that was named Prompto.

“Oh gods, this is amazing! Come on, little buddy, come to Prompto. That’s it, that’s it, don't rush… aw, don’t worry, bud, I got ya! See? Nothing to cry over, just some ruffled feathers!”

“I’m embarrassed just looking at this,” the Prince stated in a level tone. He stood on the other side of the fence their blond companion eagerly jumped over a few minutes ago, leaning nonchalantly on one of the posts, hands crossed. Not for a moment did his eyes stray away from the scene unfolding inside of the pen. “Why can’t I stop looking at this?”

“It’s almost hypnotising, ay?” Gladio chimed in, starring in a way that was at once fond and perplexed. Like he knew what he’s looking at, but wasn’t quite sure why. “You think they’ll adopt him?”

Ignis fixed his glasses and gave the idea some thought. He did hate to leave a good question unanswered. “Normally, I would doubt it. Chocobos and humans have too little in common nutrition-wise and our natural instincts, although complementary, clash in too many instances. However…”

The yellow chick buried its beak inside of Prompto’s vest and the blond made a high-pitched noise of delight that the adult hen standing behind him picked up in her warbled way, and Ignis had to clear his throat. Lacking appropriate words, he just pointed at the scene with an ‘observe the exhibit A’ attitude and left it at that. Both Noct and Gladio nodded in perfect understanding.

“Not that I don’t get the kid, these little suckers are adorable as all get out,” Gladio admitted, “but…”

Noct agreed without a moment’s doubt. “Yeah. Disgusting.”

And yet, none of them stopped watching Prompto cheerfully insinuate himself into the flock of mothers and chicks. Being pecked and flailed at, and cuddled to by the little ones, and pretty much herded away from the fence by the hens.

“Aaand we lost him!” Gladiolus hummed under his breath, amusement twisting the corners of his lips up as much as exasperation tried to push them down.

“He will come back when he grows hungry,” Ignis reassured the other two.

“No, Iggy, let him go. He’s happy here, with his new family, he will have a good life.”

“Gods, he’s easy,” Noctis snorted inelegantly. He uncrossed his arms and, not really knowing what to do with them, recrossed them again, a confused scowl marring his face. With every day Ignis saw more and more flashes of a True King in his young ward, but they were all intersected with these moments of hapless immaturity. “He would go with a pack of coeurls as long as they were nice to him!”

“Yeah, well, you know how to call him back, then.” Gladio’s eyes flashed in the afternoon  sun almost as brightly as his teeth when he smiled wolfishly at the Prince. “Positive attention. Tell him he has a nice ass and he’ll come running.”   

Unexpectedly, Noctis shrugged. “Okay. Hey, Prom!” Hearing the distracted “What?” from the blond the Prince, expectedly, threw his Shield under the bus, “Gladio says you have a nice as _mhg_!”

His eyes flashed over Gladiolus’ meaty hand, but there was less anger in them than amusement. The stalemate broke when the excited yelling reached their ears.

“Guys, guys! Look at this little one!” Prompto did his best to free himself from the protective circle of the hens with his arms full, knee-deep in little chocobos chirping for his attention. The hens didn’t as much let him go, as moved the circle with him, towards the fence, not even for a moment ceasing to peck at his hair and clothes in a disturbingly motherly fashion. Ignis had a fleeting thought that if only their blond companion was aware of his power, the world would have another conflict on its hands. Less bloody and decidedly more fluffy conflict, true, since there was only so much a Niflheim’s army could do when confronted with the world’s population of the fiercest mothers imaginable. Give it a year and Eos would find itself under completely new dictatorship.

“Look at him! Just look!”

The chick in Prompto’s arms was almost too big to be carried, still, the blond struggled to keep him close and Ignis understood why once he got a closer look at the little bugger. It was the fluffiest little thing he’s ever seen in his life. The fluff was so prominent that it was hard to see its wings – also tiny and adorable – making it look like a small, round, sun-yellow cloud with a pair of clear blue eyes that shyly peeked at the three strangers from the shadow of Prompto’s vest.

Ignis’ hands twitched by his sides. It looked _so soft_.

Especially when Prompto hoisted the chick higher and buried his face in its side, giggling like a loon and causing the chocobo to chirp in delight. “Guys, it’s like he’s made from cotton candy!”

“Please, just don’t lick it,” Noctis warily eyed the yellow hen that stood closest to his friend, “you’ve embarrassed yourself enough.”

“Ha, you say that now, princess. Don’t diss, just pet it, then we’ll talk!”

Ignis also eyed the hen, but she looked absolutely fine with the gangly human carting her progeny around – she even preened slightly, as if proud of her hatchling and the attention it was receiving.  When the fluffball chirped especially loudly, she crowded Prompto against the fence, cutting him off from the rest of the hens in a display of possessiveness that would be concerning… if Ignis didn’t know better.

“Long lost family,” mused Gladio under his breath, “reunited at last.”

For what Ignis sent him a sharp look, because as much as picking at one another was a fairly amusing pastime, that subject was a sore one for their friend and not to be joked about. Gladiolus rolled his eyes, but that was about it. Good.

“Come on, Noct, pet iiiiit!”

Noctis opened his mouth. Closed it. Managed to shrug helplessly before natural instinct won and his fingers ended up buried up to the knuckles in the soft fluff on the little chick’s tummy.

“Yeah, I guess… he is pretty adorable.” He admitted, a small precious smile playing on his lips.

Ignis had to agree. The little thing was an epitome of cuteness - almost cartoonishly so. And even better was to see two of his young friends cooing over it without a care in the world. It lightened the weight on his heart, made him remember that the world was essentially good.

Gladio, however, didn’t seem adequately impressed. “Yeah, no, seen better. ”

It took a moment for the three of them to realise what was said and when they did, Gladio was already looking smug. The Prince looked at him with annoyance, but Prompto’s expression was downright shattered.

“You take that back! This is the cutest thing in the world!” He whined, holding the chick to his chest.

“Nah, seen cuter.”

“I don’t believe you!”

“You don’t have to. Not like I give a fuck.”

“Oy,” Noct snapped. “Watch the language in front of the children!”

Even the hens seemed to look at the Shield in stark disapproval.

Gladiolus rubbed the back of his neck and poked the chick in the head, only to have him be pulled away by indignant Prompto. “Just saying. Not that this tiny sucker isn’t cute… but, eh.”

“You know that Iris doesn't count, do you? Siblings are out of question.” Ignis said, just to be clear.

“Pff, as if! Iris is a banshee in sheep's clothing! Not a chance, Specks, the thing is rare and special… maybe one day, if you all grow some chest hair, I will show you.”

Well, if that wasn’t an obvious trap to walk into. Thankfully, Ignis had too much self-control to bite that particular lure.

Unfortunately, they were also lacking the time to stand around and discuss the virtues of chocobos against whatever mystery Gladio kept so close to his chest. As it was, they were already late - the stop at the chocobo farm was an unplanned one, they were supposed to only get some bottled water and leave before Prompto saw the pens…

Once trapped by the lure of a fluffy bird, it was hard to tear oneself away.

“I propose we leave,” Ignis said loudly, turning towards the parking lot where they’ve left Regalia. “There’s enough sunlight left for us to get back to Hammerhead, but only if we hurry.”

It was with a visibly heavy heart that the Prince stopped petting the chick.

“We have to go, Prom, come on.”

“Okay, okay, jeez. There, run along,  little buddy!” The chick landed gently on the ground, but as soon as he did, all the other puffballs flocked close to the blond, demanding attention even persistently. Attention which they got.

It started to look like Prompto intended to say goodbye to each and every one of them separately, until Gladio has had enough.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

He reached over the fence, grabbed Prompro under his armpits and, with seemingly no trouble at all, hefted the flailing blond to their side. Prompto struggled, of course, but soon it became clear that he has no chance of winning with an angry mountain of a man holding him by the scruff. Defeated, he slumped in the hold, waving sadly to the chocobos that all watched him, heartbroken. Some of them chirping mournfully as he was pulled away.

“Odin’s sacred balls, stop making it weird!” Noct punched him on the arm and marched up ahead, probably trying to outrun the whole ridiculous situation awakening emotions in him that he had no idea how to deal with. Ah, to be young and innocent again. 

Ignis closed the back of the small procession, smiling to himself, because no one could see him. He kept forgetting how young the boys were - how young he himself was. This war took so much from them and it would be so easy to let the anger and despair consume him - thankfully, displays such as this one were always there to cheer him up. Prompto being - well, Prompto and Noctis reacting to his Promptiness in a way that was so far removed from the ideal stoic ruler he was supposed to be… Not to mention Gladio and his big act of losing the patience with both of them that only egged the boys on.

Because that what it was, back then, right? An attempt to make Prompto pout in his most adorable way and raise his hackles. Surely, the Shield was kidding.

There was nothing in this world cuter than a fluffy chocobo chick.

Was there?

 

* * *

 

Ignis would like it to be noted that it took more than three hours for him to succumb.

They didn't get to Hammerhead on time, of course. Thanks to some people getting caught up with chocobos, they had to steer away from the road into a nearby haven to wait out the night in relative safety. Thankfully, they packed the tent and were more or less stocked on food for a night in the wild, and the feeling of guilt stopped Prompto from complaining about yet another night in a sleeping bag.  

Ignis would almost prefer the complaining - as everyone were so docile and quiet, he was left with his own thoughts and even the distraction of cooking couldn’t silence his curiosity. He was a curious man by nature, inquisitive from the early years, he _liked_ to know whatever there was to know. Telling him a half of a sentence and leaving the other half unspoken was akin to swinging a bone in front of a very hungry dog.

Still, personal dignity demanded that he at least waits for the boys to be distracted with cleaning the dishes on the other side of the camp, before he caved. Gladio was easy to find by the tent, where he just finished adding up fuel to the low bonfire they had going more for the comfort than warmth.The night already looked to be a chilly one and Ignis considered setting up a small heater inside of the tent. Hopefully, none of the other three will kick it in their sleep, setting the tent aflame. One could hope.

However, as it was, he sat down in the soft grass by the Shield’s side and tried to find words that would make his loss less humiliating.

In the end he settled on a single, tired: “Alright.”

Gladio smiled like a sated wolf, even if his eyes never left the flames. “You bitin’?”

Ignis fixed his glasses. “I’m interested.”

“Okay.”

A minute of silence passed between them, disturbed only by the crackling of burning wood and a muted chatter from the boys.

“So?” Ignis prompted, impatient to get to the bottom of this.

Gladio startled, as if he managed to forget what they were just talking about. “What? Oh, yeah, okay.” He rubbed his stubbled chin, smirking. “I guess it won’t hurt. Sleep by the wall today.”

Ignis hoped he misheard. “Beg pardon?”

“I said, pick the sleeping bag in the far end of the tent today.”

“How is that conclusive to…” He watched, confused, as the Shield stood and kicked at one of the logs that slipped from the neat pile in front of them.

“Just do it.” Gladio patted his shoulder. “In the morning you will see.”

And he was gone, stalking to where the Prince bickered with Prompto over which of them washed more dishes. Ignis tried not to feel tricked, as he watched Gladiolus step into the quarrell, ordering an impromptu training session.

Gladio wouldn't pull his leg like that, would he?

An hour later found him in the tent, shoes, belt and jacket folded neatly in the corner, himself backed away from the entrance. The place argued with him, he’d prefer the Prince to take it - being nominally safer, all in all. Still, his curiosity has been piqued.

Soon enough a commotion outside signalled the return of his charge - well, both of them - from whatever hellish exercise Gladio invented. The zipper slid down. “Oh, Iggy, already in bed?”

“Leave him, Specs needs his beauty sleep.”

Noctis pushed Prompto into the tent, sending him stumbling into the floor. Ignis reached out at the last moment to steady the boy and, with a quiet thanks and a giggle, the blond started to wiggle into his sleeping bag. The Prince was close second and it wasn’t a minute before the two of them were all snuggled deep into the bags, zippers pulled over their noses. It was a rather cool night, Ignis had to admit.

Also, he had to admit that he was rather curious as to how this whole thing was going to play out. Gladiolus was mostly a serious man, but he did have a mischievous streak and could be quite sneaky when he put his mind to it. Ignis hoped that he won’t wake up with his hair dyed purple or something equally cumbersome.

“Night, night, Iggy. Night, Noct.”

“Goodnight Prompto, Prince.”

“Yeah, yeah, ‘night you guys.”

When Gladio pushed his way into the tent, half an hour later, the boys were already asleep, exhausted. For a man his size, the Shield was nearly silent as he made his way over the threshold. Ignis woke up only because he worked really hard and long on cultivating his paranoia and the sound of a carefully pulled zipper was enough to rouse him from slumber.

Low-key wary, he observed with one eye as the Shield got rid of his shoes and belt, and slipped into the sleeping bag.

And then proceeded to reach the sleeping Prince and…

“What are you doing?” Ignis hissed out in indignation.

Gladio looked at him, momentarily startled, and had the gall to put one finger over his lips while the other hand was busy with unzipping Noctis’ sleeping bag. The Prince, of course, slept through it and didn't even stir when the Shield leaned over him and did the same to Prompto.

“Gladio…” It was a chilly night, the boys will get cold. Noctis had a ridiculously weak constitution as it was and Prompto was thin as a rail!

“Trust me,” mouthed out Gladiolus. “Sleep. You will see in the morning.”

Everything in him argued against the idea - that is, everything apart from the curiosity that was not as much piqued as kicked in the shins with a yelled out _You're It!_

Uneasily, Ignis closed his eyes and started counting sheep.

 

* * *

 

When the morning came - Ignis was ready to apologise. To everyone.

He was woken up by a meaty hand patting his cheek, virtually unswattable. He opened his eyes and fumbled for the glasses, a sharp retort on the tip of his tongue, but before he’s managed to get it out, the hand returned to cover his mouth.

Gladio, who was crouching over him, weathered his sharp glare and only removed his hand when he deemed Ignis awake enough not to make a scene. When that moment came, he let Ignis sit up and pointed to the side with a smug little smirk.

Ignis looked. Time seemed to slow.

“Now, ain’t that just about the cutest thing you’ve seen in your life or what?”

His mouth grew dry and there was no words in his head with which to answer.

Like a pair of kittens, Noctis and Prompto migrated during the night in search of warmth, with their sleeping bags slipping into a mess around their knees. They were tangled together in a pile of soft snoring and sharp elbows, hands showed into the fabric of each other's shirts to escape the cold. They looked peaceful and unconcerned with the world, like a pair of young children sleeping off a day of carefree play. Cheeks rosy and mouths open, breathing softly as they cuddled.

Ignis put a hand over his lips, not trusting himself to stay quiet or speak with any degree of coherence. He was painfully aware of the way Gladiolus sat back on his knees and surveyed the scene like a work well done, the level of smugness radiating off him nearly unbearable this early in the day.

“Much better than any ol’ chocobo chick, eh?” He whispered, folding his arms loosely.

“Yes, eh,” Ignis cleared his throat slightly. “Quite.”

“Come on, Iggy, let’s get this day started.”

When the Shield reached out to shake the sleeping blonde, however, Ignis’ hand grasped his wrist with bruising force. Suddenly and sharply enough to have the man flinch.

“Specs..?”

“Breakfast is not ready yet, no point in waking them up.”

Gladio’s expression had no business looking as knowing as it did, but Ignis could ignore that. Enough that the man let himself be pulled out of the tent without waking the sleeping duo and waited until they were both safely out before dissolving into chuckles.

“But Iggy…”

“Yes, Gladio?”

“If you want to see something even better,” the damn hook was thrown again. “I can let you be the one to wake them up.”

Goddamnit.

“...thank you.”

Hook, line and sinker.

Noctis would be proud.

 

 

 

 


	2. Helping Hands

 

 

Sometimes, Ignis contemplated, life was decidedly unfair. Here he was, a natural caster: his sensitivity to magic was known to him before he had even Sworn himself to the Prince as his Guard. By the time his connection to the Armiger blossomed fully, he knew how to utilise its powers to their utmost. While Gladiolus still worked on timing his attacks right and getting used to the strange weightless-weight of the swords Noctis carried with him, while Prompto downright _reeled_ from the sole idea of it, Ignis was casting spells as if he was born to do it.

Maybe he was. It was a nice thought. Even nicer was being trusted by his Prince to carry that power for his sake. Noctis was bright, maybe even more intelligent than he himself wanted to realise, and powerful beyond imagination - he could have carried his own magic with little problem, like his father did. He could cast spells more powerful and immediate than Ignis could, cutting out the time lost on the transfer of power - even if it was just a spec of a second. He could protect himself from harm against nearly every kind of adversity.

But he couldn't protect _them_ at the same time _._

The Prince was young and he was inexperienced, and his fighting style turned frantic and unpredictable whenever he got overwhelmed - by the enemies or his own emotions. And that was not a mindset suited for spellwork, especially when surrounded by people one didn’t want to hurt. And Ignis knew that the Noctis would rather gnaw his own hand off than risk hurting one of them by accident.

So, the future Adviser took over that duty, held Noct’s magic in his hands with care and dedication, used it to heal and support, to burn his way through the monsters and the MTs, and obstacles that rose to stand in their way. It was an important duty that left Ignis feeling useful and in control of the battle in some way - he could afford to step back and survey the situation, decide where he was most needed. It allowed him to serve as a strategist and a backup, and a shield for his Prince and his friends.

However, it was all too easy to grow complacent and forget that even a man with a steady hand could have his weapon backfire on him.

Literally.

“I can do it myself, you know?”

“Yep.”

Gladio’s one-syllable answer was as much of a sign that Ignis won’t get his way as the serious expression on his chiselled face. Ignis, always the strategist, decided to conserve his energy for something that will be actually worth it.

Not like his dignity was worth much these days - especially at the moment. Having the Shield do up the buttons of his shirt was not even half as humiliating and awkward, as trying to explain to the group how he’s managed to get a Bolt to explode in his hands _just as he was about to cast it_ . Not nearly as difficult as having to calm the three panicking men and direct them on how to apply basic first aid _while being the one_ that was in need of said first aid. And not nearly half as exhausting as watching the Prince and the Shield tear into one another out of guilt, insisting that the other one was responsible for not paying enough attention to their stock of Potions.

These two had the potential to be the death of him, sooner or later.

Well, either that or his own incompetence.

“There we go, done.” Gladio finished at the last button and straightened Ignis’s collar in a gesture that the Royal Adviser rolled his eyes at. “Ah, wait, seatbelts.” Before Ignis managed to protest, Gladiolus grabbed the suspenders that were hanging loosely from Ignis’ belt and pulled them up, snapping them in place a bit stronger than absolutely necessary. “There, all set!”

Alright, the level of humiliation was slowly raising.

“I would thank you for not manhandling me,” Ignis said seriously, raising one of his hands to awkwardly push the glasses up his nose. “I can perform simple tasks yet.”

That being said, the only thing he’s managed to accomplish was dislodging the glasses from his face. Gladio, training his instincts and reflexes from the crib, managed to catch the falling object before it met the ground and, bloody hell, Ignis wished he could set the man on fire. Maybe that would get rid of the damn smirk on the Shield’s face when he was putting the glasses back where they belonged.

“Specs, your specs.”

“Thank you,” Ignis forced out through his teeth. “And please, don’t joke anymore, my wounds may try to reopen.”

The laughing man followed him out of the tent and into the sun-bathed meadow their most recent haven was placed in the middle of. A very convenient area - flat ground covered in lush grass made for a decent surface under the tent’s floor and the nearby stream provided much needed water and entertainment for their Prince. It was obvious that while Ignis tried to get dressed and ready for the day, Noct had already investigated the body of water thoroughly - as proven by the smell of cooking fish wafting over the camp.

“Breakfast is ready!” Prompto, as always, was the first one to perk up when he saw Ignis emerge from the tent. He pointed at the low bonfire and a few small fish grilling over it on freshly peeled sticks. “Royal treat!”

Ignis cast a sharp look over his shoulder at Gladiolus. “Tell me you were the one to prepare the firepit.”

“Easy, the kids didn't set themselves on fire while you were asleep.” Gladio stretched his impressive frame until something in his spine popped and followed his nose to the food. “That dubious honour still belongs to you.”

Gods, he regretted that he can’t hide his embarrassment behind the casual gesture of fixing his glasses!

“Good morning, Prompto,” he decided to change tactics, then. “I hope you slept well and that his Highness didn’t drag you to the river at an ungodly hour?”

“His Highness went alone,” Noctis answered before Prompto managed to open his lips.

The Prince gathered himself from a limp sprawl over their one remaining picnic chair and up into a standing position with remarkable speed taking into account the time of the day. He walked up to Ignis and stopped in an arm’s distance, eyes seemingly drawn to his Advisor’s bandaged hands. He stuffed his own hands into his pockets and looked decidedly awkward as he tried not to let his worry show. “Are you… okay?”

The urge to fix his glasses intensified.

“Yes, quite,” Ignis half-lied. “A good night of sleep helped tremendously.”

It did and didn’t. His hands and forearms were still in rough, desperate shape, half a sip of a healing Potion wasn’t enough to close the wounds sufficiently and did barely more than numb the burns to save Ignis from agony. It pushed his cells into faster regeneration - and sleep helped with that - but the longer they were forced to work without further aid, the worse the final effect will look. Ignis wasn’t eager to have his skin marked with splotches of scars for the rest of his life, thank you. Not to mention the threat of limited mobility in his hands which was just as unacceptable.

“We need another Potion, don’t we?” Noct, as it was already said, was an intelligent young man. “After breakfast we'll pack up and go back to the outpost. Hopefully, they will have potions there.”

“You forget, Your Highness, that we have nothing to pay for them with.”

“Not the only thing he forgot recently.” Gladio’s grumpy snip was just loud enough to raise the Prince’s hackles.

Prompto, wisely, stepped out of the way when Noctis turned to his Shield. “Update. We can have Gladio _not_ carry the healing supplies next time, since he can’t seem to keep stock of them.”

“Unlike His Highness, who blessed them last time.”

The pressure behind his eyes grew and Ignis regretted that he can’t do much to alleviate it.

“Can I have the two of you not growling at one another anytime today?” He spoke to the two brunettes with clear disappointment that disappeared only when his gaze moved to the last member of the team. The blond was standing a bit to the side, away from the fighting bulls, wringing his hands. Ignis narrowed his eyes when he noticed that this nervous habit raised its ugly head more and more since the accident. “Prompto, how about you start some hot water? I’d appreciate a cup of coffee.”

“Ah… me? Oh, yeah, sure! Right away!”

Ignis decompressed his mouth and gave the young man a weary smile. “Thank you. I’m glad that at least one of you can keep their head.”

Prompto usually served as his scapegoat whenever Noctis and Gladio acted like schoolchildren. Paying positive attention to him usually served to make the other two feel the burn of his frustration with them more acutely. A cheap tactic, but it did help to keep the team balanced and on their best behaviour.

And it worked, judging by the way his friends’ ire seemed to fizzle out and their gazes sought their respective feet. By the time Ignis got to the bonfire, the picnic chair was free and the moment he sat in it a plate was placed on his lap. The fish on it was already peeled and de-boned, and alright, Noctis was about 50% forgiven.  

Breakfast was a quiet affair, but not uncomfortably so. Ignis focused mostly on his plate and tried not to make too much of a mess. The bandages covered his hands down to his palms, and all that was visible from underneath were his fingers to about the first knuckle. He could use his hands in simple ways, even though holding up a fork seemed to be as far as he could manage at the moment. Holding it gracefully was out of question.

By the time the water finally boiled, he has eaten as much as he could without making a spectacle out of himself. More importantly, he already had their day carefully planned out.

“We still have a mission to finish,” he started, wiping his lips and fingers on the tea towel Prompto thoughtfully provided. “I calculated that the earnings from it will be sufficient to restock our dwindling supplies.”

It wasn’t a difficult one, either. No more than a dozen giantoads that had to be persuaded to leave the property of one distraught farmer stationed about five miles to the south of their current location. Nothing that couldn't be managed swiftly. If they leave now, there should be enough time left to visit the nearest outpost, collect the reward and purchase a few Potions that, Ignis noted, were quite reasonably priced.

“Shouldn’t be hard,” Noctis reflected his thoughts. “To scare a handful of frogs away.”  

“My thoughts exactly. That’s why Your Highness and Gladiolus should be enough to complete the mission, while I and Prompto stay here.”

He might - or might not have - timed the news with Gladio swallowing the last bite of his meal. “Whoa, Iggy, what…!” The Shield choked out.

“It’s only logical. In my current state I’m unable to offer you support in battle, so my presence would hinder you more than help. I can’t trust myself to keep in step with you and our supplies were initially divided with four people in mind. Eschewing my load would only serve to incapacitate one of you. However, if something does go wrong in the camp, I need an additional set of hands to deal with it. I’m able to perform if need be, but would rather not worsen my state.” And his hands hurt. Like a bitch. “So, as you can see, splitting up is the best option at this time.”

“Is that a punishment?” Noct and Gladio eyed one another like a pair of chocobos fighting over greens.

 _And also it was a punishment_ , because he’s had enough of listening to his Prince and his Shield growl at one another, and his last dreg of patience was already allocated to watching Prompto murder his travel coffee press. There was only so much a man could give.

“Rather, I would prefer to stay with someone who didn’t manage to annoy me yet today.”

The shaking of Promptos hands as he carefully poured hot water into the press was nearly audible. Good. At least someone still feared disappointing him.

Noct looked undecided, but once Gladio grumbled in agreement with the plan, he wouldn’t dare to argue. Their friendship was based on a very strange mix of antagonism and posturing that Ignis had yet to crack. It was useful, though, because they were not above working together just to spite one another.

“Do go on, gentlemen, you’re wasting sunlight.” Ignis waved the two away in an offhand gesture that still looked more regal than whatever the actual Prince of the group could ever hope to conjure. “We will be perfectly fine on our own. Right, Prompto?”

“Yeah, guys! I will protect Iggy with my life!”

Noctis looked at his best friend briefly, before moving his gaze to Ignis. “Please, don’t let him perish before we’re back, I only have this one peasant.”

“Hey! I can take care of myself!” Prompto squawked.  

“Do not worry, Your Highness, without you here to court trouble, we should be perfectly safe.”

“Hardy har!”

And with that the Prince and his Shield gathered their supplies and charged into the wilderness without looking back.

Ignis released the sight he has been holding in and finally allowed his hands to rest in his lap. Barely an hour up and he was already exhausted and in considerable amount of discomfort. He hoped the mission goes without a hitch and both his companions return safely to the haven.

He didn't even realise he closed his eyes when a gentle hand rested on his shoulder, startling him into sitting up straighter. Prompto smiled apologetically, but there was a steaming mug in his hand, so Ignis didn't hold on to the offense. With some maneuvering they’ve managed to secure the mug in his grasp without fear of it slipping out.

The first sip was pure heaven. Ignis felt warmth spreading through his body, caffeine hitting his bloodstream, and closed his eyes in bliss.

Yes, a cup of good, strong Ebony was almost a Healing Potion in on itself. It should put him back on his feet right away.

“Is it really smart?” Prompto, meanwhile,  was looking in the direction where the other two disappeared into, nervously thumbing at the cheerful button on his vest. “They may kill each other without you there.”

“Precisely. Without me, there they will have no excuse not to go for it.”

“Iggy!”

The look he got for his comment was so scandalised he could only shrug in response. “Once they get it out of their systems everything will go back to normal. Don’t worry, Prompto, their relationship was always a bit, how to say it, volatile.”

Prompto plopped down to sit on the grass next to him, relaxing slowly. Ignis knew that he’s not the most entertaining company, but Prompto was never not worried when Noctis was out of his sight (in that they were the same, at least), so it didn’t surprise him that the blond was sticking close. In many aspects, Prompto was as social a creature as his beloved chocobos.

“Is that where Noct learned all that alpha posturing?” The blond inquired, amusement curling his lips. “Form Gladio?”

Ah, if only!

“He grew up surrounded by Crownsguard and Kingsglaive, and, Gods save us, Amiticias.” Ignis allowed his own mouth to rise at the edges. “I’m rather glad the only Manly Hobby he picked up from them is fishing. And even though it may not seem like it, I appreciate your influence on him throughout the years.”

The smile Prompto gave him made the already bright morning downright _radiant_ . “Aww, Iggy, that’s… wait,” and as soon as it appeared, it dimmed, “are you telling me I am not manly?! That I’m, like, _anti-manly?!_ ”

Uh-oh.

“I only meant to imply that you represent a different kind of masculinity; one that the Prince needed to acquaint himself with.”

But ‘anti-maleness’ wasn’t a bad description of what Prompto was, Ignis decided after some thought. Certainly, the young man was a clear-cut antithesis to the model masculinity found in the Citadel: big, straight-backed, stilted and emotionally constipated. Prompto, in contrast, was warm, bright and loud. He wore his emotions out for all to see and expressed them in a way so carefree it was sometimes hard to understand why the rest of Lucis struggled to get on with the program. When he cared for someone, they knew from the get go.

Ignis knew that Noctis needed such person in his life for the longest time. Someone light and cheerful, and completely unlike his dour, duty-bound life. Needed that unassuming type of unbridled kindness that came from the place of no expectations other than returned friendship.

It was quite a surprise to discover later on that they’ve all seemed to need it in their little pack. Because Gladio may never admit it, and Ignis himself was never comfortable with expressing himself verbally to that extent, but it didn’t take long for Prompto Argentum to become an indispensable presence within their group.

For Gladiolus - well, he was an older brother to the bone. Blessed with a younger sister with such sparkly personality had to soften him up a bit towards the no-less sparkly blond. Amiticias were a bit like bears in that aspect, once you got through their thick skin, you were under their protection until the day you died of old age.

For Ignis, it was more prosaic and, he admitted, selfish. It was simply _nice_ to take care of someone who was appreciative of his efforts and Prompto was always appreciative in the purest, most eager way. Some would say it was unfair for the boy to be used so, but coincidentally, Prompto needed someone to care for him to an extent the other two didn’t.

Logically, he was more self-sufficient than the other two - raised as a commoner in a home with nearly absent parental figures, he’s had learned fast how to take care of his basic needs and organize his life around future targets. Comparatively, neither Noctis nor Gladio ever had the need for it, since their lives were folded around their future roles from the get go. They were led along their narrow pathways by multiple helpful hands that always knew better. Ignis had to admit that he himself was only able to see the difference now, because at some point during late puberty he’s realised that he will forever be a set of such hands to his Prince.  

No, Prompto didn’t need someone to navigate life for him the way Noct did, but nonetheless seemed to appreciate it even more when someone made an effort to do so. He didn’t _need_ to be cared for, but _liked_ to know when someone did care. And something in Ignis responded to that with the power that surprised himself.   

Gladio tried to imply that Ignis was a naturally born caretaker - even though there was nothing natural in it, he worked long and hard to evolve that part of his mental makeup in the light of realisation that his future King was a helpless case that needed constant supervision. It was how other people managed to squeeze their way under the umbrella of his protective instincts that he was curious to learn.  

 

* * *

 

The day rolled out in a relaxed fashion - and Ignis was startled with realisation of how unused he grew of such concepts. A day spent in the camp, enjoying himself and resting; sitting in the warm sun with one of Gladio’s trashy novels and a cup of tea to kill the time...

It felt downright offputting.  

Especially when there were things to be done and Prompto - who was always in the line of sight making sure that Ignis didn’t want for nothing, - didn't let him do any of them.

Being watched out for wasn’t something he especially enjoyed.

“Prompto, are you taking another photo of me?”

“...maybe.”

“And what, pray tell, is the reason? I haven’t moved from the spot in about an hour.”

The blond gave him a sheepish smile and a shrug, and lowered his phone. The flush slowly crawling up his neck was endearing, but also suspicious. “Eh, nothing, really. Just… you’re so relaxed there. I rarely see you so relaxed.”

Well, that was a load of crap, he was plenty relaxed on a daily basis! Wasn’t he…?

“Prompto.”

A sigh was enough to have the young man  scrambling, nearly dropping his phone, guilt sketched on his face in stark lines. “I… Noct wanted… uh. Promise you won’t be angry?”

So that’s how it was. “His Highness asked you to reassure him regularly about my continuous survival, I presume?

Ah, bingo. For a man of twenty, Prompto managed an unsettlingly accurate impersonification of a five year old caught with their hand in a cookie jar.

“Well, it shouldn’t be necessary for much longer, seeing that His Highness and Gladio will be back soon. I’ll give it one more hour.” Ignis put the book away and finally abandoned the picnic chair, stretching his back with a pleased grunt. He still had problems with how to manage his hands, but it was getting better. He was getting used to the pain. “Which leaves us with enough time to prepare a quick lunch. Doubtlessly, they will arrive starved.”

Noctis’ metabolism was ruled by its own esoteric laws, but the one constant that Ignis has managed to work out was that while prolonged use of magic left the Prince exhausted, feeding him something nutritious quickly enough served to stave off the inevitable crash. A crash they had no time for now, if they wanted to get to the outpost before the store closed. Meanwhile, Gladio was almost a book-example of ‘angry when hungry’ and none of them wanted to deal with that right now.

“Wait, wait, wait, Iggy!” Prompto appeared in front of Ignis seemingly out of nowhere, blocking his path to their travel cooler. “You're not going to cook, are you?”

“Well, if the lunch would be so kind as to cook itself, then I guess I wouldn’t have to. Alas…”

“No, no, no! Your hands, man! You can’t!” Ignis opened his lips to counter that yes, he could, watch him, but before that happened Prompto grasped his hands above the elbows and that was enough to make the Royal Adviser hiss. “See? Not good! You are supposed to be resting and cooking is not resting!”

What did Gladio promise to do to you if I as much as move a muscle?  - Ignis was genuinely interested to know.

“I will cook, you just kick back and relax.”

And wasn’t that a novel concept?  

“You?”

“I can manage a simple stir fry,” Prompto attempted nonchalance, but his expression turned pinched. He did hate to be doubted. “I fed myself from the age of ten, okay? I may not look like it, but I know how to cook rice.”

Ignis had to admit, he might have been a bit unkind in his assumption. He conceded the argument with grace when nothing else came to mind that would turn it in his favor. It was a bit touching, actually.

“Very well, I will sit it out today. Just me, my coffee, and the breeze.”

This time, however, he angled the chair in such way as to easily observe his blond companion. Which, in turn, had the companion stare at him wearily.

“You’re not… not going to watch me do it, are you?” Prompto asked, shifting from foot to foot.

“I see no reason why not. I’m always on a lookout for new inspiration.” And, gods forgive him, the cooking set was really expensive.

“Aw, come on, Iggy!”

Ignis tilted his head a bit, curiosity awakened. “What’s the problem?”

“It’s… nothing. Just. Just awkward! It’s like someone watching you type, you know?”

No, he didn’t know. He never had a problem with being… oh. “It’s making you flustered.” Ignis realised out loud.

Prompto winced. “Uncomfortable, the word you’re looking for is,” he ground out. “Awkward. Judged. Take your pick.”

“But I am not judging you.”

Prompto just looked at him and Ignis had to admit that, alright, there was something to it.

“I’m simply… eh, a bit protective over my set.”

Prompto’s entire posture - expression - _aura_ ! - changed. “Aw, that’s cute, Iggy!” He reached to the small camp table Ignis used as his workstation and blindly picked up a filleting knife. And _cooed_ at it. “Don’t worry, buddy, uncle Prompto will take good care of you! There won't be a scratch left!”

“Please… Please, never again baby-talk to my cutlery.”

“Aww, your daddy is jealous! Isn’t that adorable?”

And here be thought that he got rid of two headaches by sending them away from the camp. Showed what he knew.

“Prompto!”

“Okay, okay, Iggy, don't get your panties in a twist!” Prompto chuckled and put the poor desecrated knife away. “Just chillax and let me do the thing.”

 

* * *

 

The knife clunked against the cutting board and Ignis couldn’t ignore it. He just couldn’t. He attempted to ‘chillax’, really did. Watching Prompto cook wasn’t as stressful as he first thought it would be. The blond set the rice to boil with no hitch, perfect proportions of water and rice bubbling steadily over the coals. He peeled the vegetables and picked the last remaining fish apart easily enough.

The problem arose when he went about chopping the ingredients.

Or, as Ignis preferred to call it - attempting to give him a heart attack.

These knives were very expensive, because they were very sharp and guaranteed to keep that sharpness until the End of Ages with minimal upkeep in the hands of a skilled chef. Skilled chef that Prompto wasn't. Watching the young man slam the blades on the edge of the cutting board in wild abandon, barely missing his fingers, pressing the razor-sharp edges down with an audible clunk… it made Ignis’ heart hurt and the hair on his head rise simultaneously.

He kept himself still, though, attempting to let the constant stream of easy chatter from Prompto ease his nerves as it usually did, but in the end he was only so strong. When the blade of his chef's knife scraped over the side of the cutting board loudly enough to scare the birds on the nearby tree into panicked flight, he snapped.

“Whoa, Iggy! I almost cut…” Prompto failed briefly, but shut up as soon as a pair of bandaged hands rested over his forearms, stopping all movement. He twisted his head to the side, eyes wide, staring at Ignis in startled worry. “...Iggy?”

“Please, no more. I can’t take it.” Ignis grunted through clenched teeth. “You're going to maim something.”

Or someone.

“Oh.”

He could feel Prompto’s shoulders slumping against his chest and instantly felt like a bastard who just kicked a puppy. It wasn’t supposed to come out that way! The young man was doing his best and it wasn't his fault that he wasn't a trained chef. It was just Ignis and his annoying OCD rearing its ugly head when it wasn't needed.

“I will just… I will leave it to you, then.”

Prompto let go of the knife and tried to step away from the workstation, but being bracketed against it by Ignis’ larger frame made it impossible. With another confused look he withered against the small table, most probably expecting a stern talking to.

How to get out of that pickle? He _attempted_ to make his companions more self sufficient, after all; encouraging Prompto’s fragile self-esteem was always on his agenda, too. But at the same time, if Prompto has managed to cut off one of his fingers there was nothing Ignis could do to help him at the moment - it would leave them with two embarassed cripples, no lunch and, gods forbid, Noctis driving them back to the outpost.

A compromise was in order.

“No, don't be silly.” Ignis spoke kindly, not moving from place. “I can’t do it.”

“So what…?”

He put as much pressure as he dared on Prompto’s forearms and guided them into a correct position, awkwardly fitting his palms over the blond’s hands. “I will simply have to teach you how to chop properly.” He said before he lost his nerve. “Now, it’s not all about slamming the knife down as hard as you can.”

“Iggy, that’s…” Prompto shifted awkwardly, but didn't get far.

“Please, pay attention. I will certainly appreciate your help in the future, but not before I’m sure you know what you’re doing.”

“Oh, oh! Okay!”

Prompto was eager to be useful and using that eagerness against him was a bit underhanded, but Ignis justified it as working with general good in mind - more utensil awareness equaled less domestic injuries equaled less worry all around. Instead of guilt, he focused on guiding these pale, unsure hands along the motions that were as natural to him as breathing. Mushrooms were an easy vegetable to start with, soft and flat, not much chance of fingers slipping under the blade. The real challenge was to convince the student that proper chopping was done by feeling more than sight - there was no need for the blade to even touch the cutting board, really.

“Relax,” Ignis spoke over the blond head, tilting his own a bit to the side to avoid the fluff tickling his cheek. “Once you get the feel of it, it will be easy. And fold your fingers in please, you don't want to scrape your nails off.”

“Is that knife really that sharp?”

“I’m afraid so. However, not as sharp as the filleting knife you’ve made out with a while ago.”

He heard the young man swallow nervously at that and had to keep in a chuckle, before it escaped him. It would not do to disrupt the lesson.

And it was - nice, really. It was also something of a novelty - even though they knew each other for years, he’d rarely ever spent time in Prompto’s company without Noctis to serve as a buffer. When the blond used to hang out at the Princes’ flat it was Noctis that both of them gravitated towards. Even after Ignis had finally accepted the lively delinquent into his household (that is, Noctis’ household that he was unofficially running) a decision signaled by his meal plans suddenly including one more mouth to feed, it took them a while to start seeing one another on something of an even ground. It took a while for Ignis to understand - and then accept - that only real delinquency happening around the Prince was the one provoked by himself and himself almost exclusively, with Prompto playing the part of a smitten fool going along with his cool best friend.

(And if the Royal Advisor considered sitting the blond down for a talk about peer pressure and how bad it was, and how to escape it with his dignity intact, well, no one had to know. Gladio’s explanation of “friendship means doing stupid shit together” didn’t seem as solid back then as it was now.)

So, no, Ignis wasn’t really used to spending time with Prompto in such close and involved capacity - but, surprisingly, once he did, he discovered it wasn’t bad at all.

As it was, he was discovering quite a few things alongside.

For example: Prompto was _small_.

Logically, Ignis knew that. Logically, he knew Prompto’s weight and his nearly exact measurements, knew that the blond was a bit too skinny and that he had little developed muscle mass. It wasn’t concerning, because Prompto was a runner and had the perfect built for it, and his diet was mostly healthy as far as Ignis knew.

So, logically, he knew it wasn’t an issue.

But it was hard to remember about it when he had the blond standing so close. And although Ignis was a bit taller than average, he wasn’t really _that_ impressive. It was one thing to see Prompto running under Gladio’s bicep and something completely different to feel him downright doll-like next to himself.

The young man’s shoulder span was easily fitted inside of his! Ignis could fold his arms over and Prompto would easily fit into the space against his chest.

Usually, the blond’s lively personality somehow masked his size - he moved too fast for the eye to take good stock of him. That was the only explanation Ignis was willing to believe.

He also never paid attention to how pale the kid was was. Even paler than the I Hate Daylight Prince Noctis of the Close the Blinds or Else. Unusual, taking into account his usually outdoorsy lifestyle of running around the city, forever on a lookout for photo ops. Insomnians were as a general rule leaning onto the tan side of the spectrum - again, excepting the Prince, who did his level best to die from the vitamin D deficiency - residing on the warmer end of the continent. Was it because the boy was adopted from beyond the state?

Didn’t seem likely… even those born in the North were, well, sturdier. Good, strong genes to beat cold winters and harsh mountainous conditions.

Prom, from up close, was disturbingly fragile. Skin pale and thin - Ignis stared briefly at the patch behind the blond’s ear where he could trace the spidery web of veins. Hands under his own were small, fingers thin, he could fancy that he can almost feel the bones shifting under the paper-like skin. Was the blond biting his nails? They were uneven.

The back of his neck was red, too - sunburned. Prompto _did_ burn like a marshmallow left on a hot parapet, that was a common knowledge.

Once they got to the outpost, they’ll have to purchase a lotion with an UV filter. Ignis noted that on his mental shopping list, because if he doesn't get it, no one will; Prompto will burn to a crisp and they’ll end up with no one to photograph their journey for posterity.

Also, all these freckles.

Warm weather compelled the blond to eschew his beloved vest in favour of a bright, sleeveless shirt that shoved off perfectly that the freckles didn't end on Prompto’s cheeks, oh no. They were everywhere where the sun managed to reach - under the burns on the back of the neck, on the slim shoulders, crawling in mesmerising constellations all the way down to his wrists. Thin, thin wrists that Ignis encircled briefly with his fingers to have a bit of a mental breakdown over later. Gods, the kickback of the guns from the Armiger was nothing to sneer at - the threat of an early onset of arthritis was not what the blond needed in his life now. Certainly not alongside all his other issues Ignis was privy to.

Prompto seemed a bit - unfinished, all in all.

And it was uncharitable to think like that about a friend, but Ignis couldn't shake off the thought.

As if his personality was too big and rich for the small body it was forced to inhabit.

But then again, imagine Prompto being Gladiolus’ size - at least now he could be stopped with the minimal amount of effort necessary to lift a wet kitten. If he was bigger and stronger? Gods have mercy, there was no telling where he would end up.

And it wasn’t putting Ignis off, that fragility, not at all. From time to time, in connection with the eagerness and enthusiasm that seemed to infuse the boy’s very cells, it was even quite charming.

He wasn't an easy man to charm, many have tried and failed in the past at stealing their way into the good graces of the future Royal Advisor. If only they knew that the apparent walls around his heart could be scaled by a baby chocobo.

A small, shivering, fluffy… wait.

Prompto was - shaking against him?

“Prompto? Is anything the matter?”

They were on the carrots already? Huh.

“Ah, Iggy! Hehe, sorry. It’s just… eeh, you’ve been silent a while and… and I’m freaking out a bit, sorry.”

“You’re doing rather well.” Ignis reassured calmly.

“...really?”

“I would tell you if you weren’t.”

Well, yes, as long as he doesn't disappear inside of his own head anymore. Luckily, no one got hurt and the chopped veg piled on the side of the board looked decent enough for a first attempt at professionalism.

Ignis felt a pulse of warmth filling out his ribcage and it took him and moment to realise that the feeling was pride. Indeed, it was in the simplest of things, wasn’t it?

“Hmmm, I may teach you how to knit, next time.”

“You…? Really?!” Prompto’s look was a charming cross between interest and mortification.

Ignis couldn’t stop the chuckle this time. “A jest.”

“Aww, Iggy! Don’t scare me like that!” The blond pouted at the handful of snap peas. “That’s the last thing I need, to be caught knitting a freaking sweater while you guys are off having all the fun.”

“I wouldn’t call our day to day excursions ‘fun’, exactly…” The miserable state of his hands serving as an example. “But I will keep that in mind.”

“No, Iggy, come on!”

Prompto huffed and puffed, but he carefully peeled the spines from each pea pod before chopping them into nice, crunchy pieces. He barely needed any guidance at this point, but Ignis was loathe to step back. He was - worried. Yes. Still unsure. There was still room for error and his friend hurting himself, and the whole thing going up in flames. It’s better he stayed and supervised the process from beginning to the end.

Since there wasn’t much supervising to be done, he could relax and return to cataloguing all the little details about his student he was usually skipping over.

The sunburned skin kept drawing his attention.

A stripe of red peeking from under the loose collar of the worn shirt, dark and painful looking. It already started to peel slightly at the edges; had to be uncomfortable for the blond when the washed out cotton brushed over it as he moved.

Before he knew it, Ignis was brushing his lips over the red skin, feeling the heat, the texture - vaguely surprised that he can’t feel the freckles, even though _logically_ he knew that there was no reason why he should. He would like to investigate the burn closer, with his fingertips, preferably.

That is, only until Prompto flinched like a frightened chocobo.

Ignis didn’t step back, didn’t remove his hands and didn’t react to the startled look the younger man threw at him over his shoulder. He looked perfectly in control of his calm exterior - while internally the ship was sinking as the sirens blared on every deck.

What in the five hells was he thinking?! What was he doing?!

This was so unprofessional!   

“Pay attention, Prompto. You don’t want to lose a finger.” His voice, shockingly, came out perfectly measured and collected, even as the blue eyes looked at him from the face that itself took on a bright cherry hue that had nothing to do with the warm weather.

“But… but you…” Prompto stuttered, visibly grasping for words. “You just…”

“Yes?”

“Ah… uh.” Apparently, there were no words to adequately voice his distress.

With a careful nudge and some more gentle guidance, the blond returned to the task at hand, focused on the last remaining vegetables and only occasionally throwing questioning looks over his shoulder - in a fashion that was most probably supposed to look inconspicuous? In effect he only managed to look vaguely itchy.  

Ah, poor boy, that wouldn't do. Apparently, Ignis needed to teach him about more than chopping.

 

* * *

 

When the brave warriors finally rolled back into the camp, the meal was still hot. Ignis retreated to his chair and blamed his strange lapse in judgement on a mild case of heat-stroke.

Prompto did his best to keep him in signs, awkward and flighty in the most endearing way, but as soon as the Prince and his Shield returned, his indomitable enthusiasm surged up again. The blond pounced at Noctis, dragging him to the blanket spread over the grass where the meal waited.

“Lunch is ready!” He announced, while the Prince slumped bonelessly onto the blanket and, without preamble, started to inhale his food, vegetables and all. “I helped make it!”

Well, that wouldn’t do at all. “Prompto is being modest.” Ignis corrected. “I was barely any help at all this time, it’s all his doing.”

“Are you trying to save your own ass here, Specs, in case the food’s inedible?” Gladio joked, taking his place next to the Prince.

The big man was in a better mood, good.

His careless comment did earn him a punch to the shoulder by a disgruntled blond but, since it was Gladio and it was Prompto, it probably barely even registered in the Shield’s brain as an assault.  

“Oh, okay, I see how it is.” Prompto sulked, rubbing his now sore knuckles. “I guess your portion can go to Noct, then!”

“Touch my food and you will end up on that grill, shrimp!”

Yes, they were all in good spirits, Ignis was glad. Having eaten his portion already - and praised it, as it rightly deserved to be praised - he gathered his book and his chair, and started preparations to leave the camp. His progress was slow, but soon enough Gladio was there to help him, leaving Prompto tasked with pestering their charge to stay awake until they can move out.

The drive to the outpost wasn’t long, but the walk to where they’ve left Regalia was a bit challenging.  

“How was the hunt?” The Advisor casually asked the Shield.

Gladio shrugged. With a few easy moves, that looked like magic for anyone not-initiated, he folded the tent into a bundle and strapped it down to his backpack. “The brat spent half of it on his phone, but in the end he’s managed to take care of his share, so there’s that.”

Ignis felt his cheeks reddening at the suspicion of what exactly kept Noctis checking his phone.

_“Come on, princess, up!”_

“Don’t worry Iggy, we had a… talk,” Gladio patted his shoulder. “We’re cool now, so you don't have to knit us that Get Along Sweater.”

“Oh, thank Shiva,” Ignis said with perfect seriousness, raising his bound hands. “I was afraid I’ll have to resort to crocheting. Or asking Prompto for help, of which I’m sure neither would make you happy.”

“Heh, you can say that again!”

_“Prom, get off!”_

A beat passed between them in companionable silence that got only a bit less companionable when Gladio made it wordlessly clear that he will deal with everything heavier than a mug and Ignis is to step back and chill. Again. This whole ‘invalid’ business was decidedly not to his liking!

_“Open these pretty eyes for me, Noct!”_

_“Stop poking me or I’ll behead you!”_

“By the way, how was the kid?” Gladio cast a look around their half-folded campsite and raised an appreciative eyebrow. “The place doesn’t look like it caught fire even once.”

_“Come oooonnnn, Noooooct!”_

“Of course not, we’ve had a perfectly pleasant, uneventful time together.” Ignis fixed his glasses and allowed his lips to curve slightly in a smirk. “There’s a reason he’s my favourite.”  

Gladio gawked at him, while in the background their blonde companion somehow managed to get himself rolled into a blanket by a very tired and irritable Prince.  

  
  
  
  



End file.
